


my marichat moments (marichat may 2019 reposts)

by nerfherder_02



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: :), Every Chapter is Different, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Greek AU, Marichat, Marichat May 2019, if you don't like a prompt, just some good times, lots of cuteness, no idea how to tag this, read chapter summaries for more details, some seriousness though, then skip it, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerfherder_02/pseuds/nerfherder_02
Summary: Basically, back in 2019, I wrote for some of the marichat may prompts. Most of 'em are on my tumblr, but I figured that since it's been a while, and I have this account, I should just repost them all over here! If you didn't already know, marichat is my favorite dynamic, so I had fun writing these and sort of want to continue some, maybe someday. :)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. No Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a real short and sweet moment during a late-night visit that I wish the show would give us

“What would you do then?” Marinette pokes Chat with her pencil as he sits on the floor next to her desk chair while she idly sketches.

“Huh?” Chat looks up, peering into her bluebell eyes with his brilliant green ones, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“If you lost your powers. What would you do?” Marinette was more or less asking for herself; Ladybug’s worst fear was losing her powers and becoming helpless.

Chat turns his gaze away, looking at his gloved hands. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about that. Chat Noir is my escape, someone I can be genuine as. I don’t think I’ve imagined losing this.” He stopped himself before he added _losing you_ . Because that wasn’t entirely true, he could still see Marinette anytime he wanted as Adrien, but this, well, there was something special about the time she spent with him as Chat. Her trademark stammering and blundering seemed to vanish, almost like magic. Something about these moments, even the silent ones, something about saying everything with just a glance or a sigh just felt _right_. “All I know is that I’d still come and see you. I couldn’t lose a friend just because I lost a skintight suit, astounding athleticism, and a destructive hand.”

Marinette laughs at his last statement, and feels heat in her cheeks from the previous one. “Yeah, you know I’m always here for you, Chat, powers or not.” She freezes for just a moment, shocked at the words that tumbled past her lips. Looking down at her partner leaning back against her desk’s support pillar, she catches a hint of a blush receding from the tips of his ears. Sensing her eyes on him, he looks up once more, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, Princess.”


	2. Greek AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so, please don't bully me, I know Percy Jackson, but idk about ancient greek life, and I'm sorry. But I thought the concept was interesting enough to write this lil thing :)

“Are you really a god, as the people say?”

“No, they simply mistook me for a god,” Ailuros shrugs her shoulders. Adrian looks up momentarily and sees the clasps of her knee-length tunic bob up and down with her movement. Here, this close to the heroine, he can see her beauty; she would make a perfect model for a sculptor.  _ What am I saying? _ Adrian feels heat rise in his cheeks and lowers his head quickly, grateful for the night to hide the surely red color of his face. 

“Then why did you not correct them?” Adrian replies without a look up from cleaning his nets. He sits against the wall of the courtyard, intently focused on his task.

“It is better that they associate me with something familiar, rather than explaining the story behind who I truly am.” The mysterious black-clad heroine inches closer to the young fisherman. Her mask concealing the top half of her face, fit for the Festival of Dionysus, glints softly in the moonlight. Now, Adrian drops the nets, turning to face her.

“Then what are you,” he asks, watching her tense momentarily. Her lips quiver and she tucks a strand of raven hair that had fallen out of her waist-length braid behind her ear.

She considers his question for a moment, then drops to her knees beside him. His heart begins to race, pounding so fervently he’s afraid she can hear it. “I can’t say.”

“Why not?” Adrian breathes, overwhelmed at her face a foot away from his.

“Because, my enemies… there are greater powers at work here than me.” Ailuros turns away, her face downcast.

“Those monsters, who sent them?” Adrian remembers the flock of black butterflies, and the evil that followed.

“I-I don’t know. No one does. What I do, it isn’t easy, especially because my teacher has not found my partner yet. I can’t control the butterflies, only my partner can, so until he finds one, the darkness will become stronger and stronger until eventually I will not be able to hold it off. I’m not even sure if I’m the best person to do this.” She sighs, then quickly goes on. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Maybe I just need someone to know, that I’m no goddess, I get scared, I can get hurt.”

Adrian tentatively reaches his hand toward hers, watching her face for a reaction. Without a protest from her, he takes her hand in his and gently squeezes it. “It’ll be alright. Your teacher chose you for a reason, don’t forget that. I’m honored you shared your secrets, I’ll keep them safe.”

“Thank you for being so kind and listening…” Ailuros trails off, realizing she never learned the name of the stranger she confided in. 

“Adrian,” he finishes for her, standing up and reaching a hand out to help her up as well. She takes his outstretched hand, rising to her feet close enough to the blond young man to feel warmth radiating from him. Feeling heat in her ears, she steps back, trying to dispel her self-induced discomfort. 

“Well, Adrian, I hope to see you again.”

“Me too.”

Retreating into the shadows of the roof of a structure just above the two, the Guardian of the Miraculous smiles to himself. “Those two are made for each other.”


	3. Kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really adore the idea of chat with kittens and I just- here ya go!

“Hey, Princess.” Chat Noir slips in through Marinette’s open trapdoor, his knees bending slightly to absorb the impact. 

“Hey,” Marinette replies after a brief glance up to confirm the identity of her visitor. Her fingers fly across her keyboard, finishing a lab report for physics that would be due tomorrow, Monday. If only equations weren’t so troublesome to type out. Chat Noir moves behind Marinette, recognizing the equations on her screen that his physics class had just learned. He rests his forearms on the back of her chair, resisting the urge to lay his chin on her head.

“Physics, huh,” Chat remarks, knowing full well he had only just finished his report. 

Marinette jumps at the closeness of his voice above her and turns around to see his sheepish grin at noticing her surprise. Turning back to her computer, Marinette replies, “Yeah, I’m just about finished with this project.” She hurriedly puts some final touches on the document, spurred on by the nearness of her freedom. 

“Perfect!” He stands back up, trying not to sound too eager and utterly failing.

“What’s all the excitement for?” Marinette closes down the tab she was working on, satisfied with her work.

“Uh, well, you’ll see- if you want though. I mean- I just- there’s something I thought you would like, but I get it if you have plans…” Chat Noir rambles on, hoping his words make some semblance of sense.

“Chat, slow down, it’s okay. What is it?”

“Oh, there are some new kittens at the shelter, and I thought it’d be nice to see them, but I didn’t have anyone to go with, and I thought maybe you would want to go?”

“I’d love to!” Few things never fail to capture Marinette’s interest, but Adrien, fashion, baking, hamsters, and kittens all happen to be on the list. “I’d have to ask my parents first, but it is Sunday so we shouldn’t have much going on.” Marinette looks at the time on her phone and exclaims, “It’s 5 o’clock already?”

Chat grabs the back of his neck with one hand, unsure of how to interpret Marinette’s outburst.  _ Of course, it’s too late for her to leave. I shouldn’t have come- _

“I didn’t think I’d have to work on my project for that long. It seemed like only an hour!” She shakes her head and motions towards the stairs. “Oh well, anyways, I’ll only be a minute. Do you want to come with? We could leave out the front door that way.”

“Sure, good idea.” The two make their way down the stairwell, passing several family portraits. Chat slows his pace, eyeing each one longingly. One in particular catches his eye, even though Marinette isn’t in it.

Marinette chatters away as she descends, and then notices Chat Noir stopping to look at the photo of her parents on their wedding day. “Chat?”

“Is that your parents?”

“On their wedding day.”

  
“They look so happy.”

“Yeah. I’ve always loved my mother’s dress.” She regards Chat for a moment, unable to decipher the mix of emotions written on his face. Moved once again by his stunning vulnerability, she brushes his arm with a finger. “You alright?”

And just like that, the trademark grin reenters. “Sure thing, Princess. Let’s go pet the kittens!”

“If my mom and dad let us,” Marinette laughs, but still makes a note to try and talk to him later. 

“If Mom and Dad let us!” Chat repeats in his eager tone.

A moment later, the two burst into the bakery, where Marinette’s parents sat behind the counter, laughing and talking.

“Marinette! And Chat Noir? What are you doing here?” Tom asks, eyes widening at the superhero. He hasn’t forgotten the fiasco that occurred some time ago, when his daughter had confessed her love to the boy. However, Tom couldn’t harbor a grudge against anyone, and besides, Chat had been wholly honest and good to Marinette, so he’s glad to see him again.

“Mama, Papa,” Marinette says, breathing hard from racing Chat down the stairs. He would have won, if she hadn’t practiced sliding down the railing thousands of times. “Chat and I want to go to the animal shelter and see the kittens. Is that alright?”

“You finished your homework?” Sabine asks, knowing her daughter’s unfortunate habit of putting aside homework to be with a friend. She’s surprised to see Chat in the house, but if her daughter had felt close enough to him to confess to having feelings for him, it’s not unreasonable to assume the two spend more time together than she had once thought. 

“Yes, I’m all done,” Marinette answers. 

“It’s true, I checked over her lab report. Though I’m sure you can trust Marinette even without my assurance,” Chat adds, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You did not check it over!” Marinette insists indignantly. “You barely looked at it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You made a slight calculation error on page three, but it didn’t throw off any of your other data so you should be okay.”

“Sly kitty, smart too,” Marinette laughs, and Chat tries not to blush in front of her parents.

“If you say so.”

“Alright, you two. As long as Marinette is back in time for dinner, you’re free to go. And, Chat, you’re welcome to stay for dinner as well,” Tom interrupts the banter. 

“Awesome! Thanks Papa!” Marinette cries, giving both her parents a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

As Marinette grabs Chat’s hand and dashes out the door, Sabine calls after them, “Have fun!”

The baker and his wife share a knowing glance.

\-----

Chat Noir can’t believe how well this day is going. Sure, he had asked Marinette to come with him on a whim, but now he couldn’t imagine this not working out. Here he is, having the time of his life with one of his first and best friends. Marinette never ran out of energy, and the kittens loved her. At one point, she had laid down on the floor, and every one of the eleven kittens had climbed on her. And now, she held one up, a bright smile lighting up her face.

“Look, he’s just like you!” In her hands is a kitten with emerald eyes, all black except for a small patch of white under its chin. 

“I guess he’s a copycat!” Chat laughs and gently takes the kitten from her hands, holding him close to his chest. The tiny cat nuzzles his hand, letting out a soft purr. Chat looks up at Marinette, his heart overwhelmed by the kitten’s affection.

Marinette giggles at his expression. “He really likes you!”

“Can- can you take a picture?”

“Of course.” She pulls out her phone and flips to the camera app. “Smile!” Marinette snaps a photo and slides next to Chat to show him.

“That’s a keeper. I wish I could have it, but you know, with a secret identity I can’t just give you my phone number.” Sighing, Chat regards the kitten once more as it swipes at his ring.

“Oh, well, I can just have Alya post it up on the Ladyblog. She’d kill for content like this.”

Chat Noir lights up. “That’s genius! You’re awesome, Marinette!” He wraps his free arm around her and squeezes her into a hug.

“M-me? Oh, it’s nothing, but thanks!” Marinette checks her phone again, and her face falls. “Oh, it’s 7 o’clock. I should probably get going.”

“Not so fast, we need a group photo!” Marinette had shifted to get up, but Chat pulls her back. Laughing, she reopens her camera and holds it out. Chat holds the copycat kitten up in the frame with one hand, and throws an arm around Marinette. “Smile!” 

The camera clicks, and Marinette drops her arm to check the picture. “Looks good!”

“Purr-fect.” Chat gently sets the kitten down. “Hope this helps you find a home, little guy,” he tells him, and then quickly adds, gesturing to the rest of the kittens, “And all of you!” Still, he whispers to the black cat, “But especially you.” Chat hears Marinette’s suppressed laughter and gets up, facing her. He takes her hand in his, and she freezes for only a moment until he says, “Ready to go, my princess?” She nods, and the pair walks out into the Paris dusk, and a denial of their growing feelings. 


	4. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's saddddddd I'm sorry :( Adrien is having some feels on his mom's birthday.

“So, what’s in here,” Chat Noir points to the chest in Marinette’s room. Seated on her chaise, Marinette casts an unconcerned glance in his direction, until she realizes he’s moving to open the chest… that’s filled with years of birthday presents for Adrien. In an instant, she’s up, casting aside her sketchbook and scrambling to sneak in front of him and sit on the latch before he can open it. 

She plasters a sheepish grin on her face, hoping her cheeks aren’t as red as they feel, and stammers, “This? Oh, it’s nothing important, just some old stuff, t-that’s all!”

Chat narrows his eyes, a sly smirk spreading on his face. He leans down, resting his hands on the chest, one on either side of Marinette, and putting his face right in hers. “Uh huh, so that’s why you’re guarding it so well?”

“Well I, you see, uh, yeah! It’s, just personal stuff.” Marinette backs away slightly and ducks her head. But Chat won’t let her off easily. He merely leans closer and closer as she continues to back away, until she’s against the wall and his face is still inches from hers. Marinette holds her breath. Chat searches her eyes, with a look on his face that tells her he knows she’s lying. The question is whether he’ll take her word for it and let the subject slide. Finally, Marinette breaks under the tension of his stare. “Alright, it’s just birthday presents for someone… for the next fifty years.”

Something in her voice tells Chat she’s being truthful. He backs away, standing up once more.  _ Funny she would mention birthday presents… today of all days. Just my luck _ . 

Marinette awkwardly wrings her hands, afraid he’ll ask more questions, but instead he simply sounds as interested as he can, even though his heart aches at the reminder of the true meaning of this day for him, “Really? That’s awesome.”

His reply catches Marinette off guard, and she looks up in surprise. “You don’t think it’s weird?”  _ But why is he so downcast all of a sudden? _

“Well, maybe it is a little, but a good weird.”  _ Honestly, kind of cute. _ “Sounds like something I’d do.”

“For Ladybug no doubt,” Marinette laughs. 

“Or maybe you.”  _ Or my mother, if she were still here _ . 

Once again, Marinette finds herself taken aback. “What?”

“I mean, you are one of my best friends, so… yeah.” Chat tries to shake off the sadness, not wanting to put Marinette through this. She didn’t need the burden of his personal life. However, one glance at her eyes searching his face tells him he already let her know too much. 

He braces himself for the upcoming onslaught of questions. 

“Hey, I’m here, can I do anything for you?” Marinette’s question isn’t the one he expected, but it’s the one he needed. He sighs, moving across the room to sit on the chaise, Marinette tentatively following him.

“It’s just- it’s not your fault- but you mentioned birthday presents, and, well, it would have been my mom’s birthday today.” Chat shifts uncomfortably, not used to sharing this much with anyone, especially in this form. 

To his surprise, and his relief, Marinette doesn’t melt into a puddle like anyone else would have. Instead, like she can read his mind, she takes a seat next to him, wrapping him up in a hug, and murmurs, “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’ll be here if you need me.”

For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t fight the tears that spring to his eyes. Resting his cheek on Marinette’s head and pulling her close, Chat lets the tears run down his cheeks, hoping Marinette doesn’t mind them getting in her hair. From the way she hugs him tighter, he hears her say “It’s okay.” For a while, they remain in this state, Chat quietly shaking with silent tears and Marinette holding him close, trying not to think about how it hurts her to see him like this. Multiple times, she silently fought off her own tears, knowing she had to stay strong. 

Finally, he loosens his grip on Marinette, and she pulls away, holding him by his upper arms. “Thanks, Princess,” he says softly, his eyes glassy from crying. 

Marinette gently wipes a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb, then reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Of course.”


	5. Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started as a crackfic, but turned into something actually decent lol! Marinette has to bake a chat-themed cake, and keep chat away from it at the same time! And yes I converted the oven temps to Celsius :D so to my fellow Americans, that's what's up.

_Why did my parents have to leave town for a week?_ Marinette had agreed to watch the bakery while her parents traveled to America for a baking expo, but this week, of all weeks, a client had ordered a massive, four-layered, Chat Noir-themed cake for a birthday. Marinette glances over at the sketch of the monstrosity and sighs. She had to somehow make the top layer into Chat’s face. 

“If only I could just bake him into this stupid cake,” Marinette loudly complains, not knowing who had just dropped by. 

“What’s that, Princess?” Chat Noir asks, walking in from the back entrance of the bakery.

“Funny, I was just complaining about you. Here, look at this cake.” With another sigh, Marinette tosses him the sketch. Chat examines it for a moment, his eyes growing wider by the second.

“Wow. But hey, it’s me we’re talking. How hard could making a cake out of me be?”

Marinette shoots him a glare sharp as the knife she’s chopping chocolate chunks with. “Wanna find out? I’ve considered baking you into the cake to solve the dilemma of that top layer.”

“Not a bad idea. I’m sure my suit would protect me from the oven. It’d be like a sauna!” 

Now she can’t hold back a laugh, imagining Chat neck-deep in a cake pan, grinning at her through the oven door. 

“What? I don’t see a downside to this.” 

“But… you’re forgetting that saunas are like 100 degrees, while this oven would be over 200.”

He pauses, considering her argument. “Hm. Yeah, that might be a problem.”

Marinette laughs incredulously, here’s the defender of Paris, debating the pros and cons of baking himself in a cake. She couldn’t have made this up even in her wildest dreams. “Alright, rule number one of this kitchen, do not jump in the oven.”

“Aw! You’re no fun!” Chat picks up a stray piece of chocolate and flings it at Marinette, who ducks in response, causing her to poke her wrist with her knife. She doesn’t notice at first, but when she goes to continue her work and sees a bead of blood on her arm, she cries, “Look what you made me do, you crazy cat!” Since it’s only a minor wound, Marinette can afford to laugh at the pure horror spreading on his face.

His next words tumble out of his mouth like a tidal wave. “Oh my gosh, Marinette, I’m so sorry! Does it hurt? Should I call someone? What is it? What do you need? I’m really sorry!”

Marinette cuts him off. “Hey, it’s okay, I promise. I’ve had worse in this kitchen. It’s my fault for messing around with a knife.”

“But-”

“I’m totally alright. Look, I’ll grab the first aid kit, can you watch the cake for me? If the timer goes off, just holler.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, now watch that cake, kitty.”

\-----

Five minutes later, Marinette returns to find Chat exactly as she left him, alert and staring intently at the oven. She sneaks up right behind him, and slips her arms over his shoulders. “How’d it go?”

Chat’s hand traces her arm until he finds the bandaid she just applied and smooths it with his thumb. “Just fine. You?”

“All good.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

Chat’s hand hasn’t left hers, but now it’s been a moment too long, and in a flash he’s back to leaning against the counter.

“So, any chance I’ll get to eat some of this cake?”

“Absolutely none. Chat Noir, I swear if I catch you even casting a longing look at this cake for a moment too long, you’ll regret it.”

“One of these days I’m going to call an animal protection agency on you,” Chat sighs.

“Yeah? Not if I call animal control first!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.” Marinette brandishes a spatula. 

Chat heaves a groan in surrender. “Fine, I won’t touch your cake.”

“Good. Can you hand me that whisk over there?”

Chat dutifully hands over the whisk; thankfully it was the only utensil in sight besides a knife, so he could recognize it. And so, the baking continues. Somehow Marinette manages to bake, build, and frost the cake just in time for delivery.

“Now how am I going to deliver this thing? I can’t even drive!” Marinette exclaims, realizing one more problem to solve.

“What if we put it in a wagon?”

“Not bad, Kitty! I forgot about it; usually Maman and Papa drive these things everywhere. Don’t touch!” she warns, narrowing her eyes at the boy.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.”

“Oh yes you would!” she calls on her way to the back room of the store.

Once the cake is loaded into the wagon, Chat offers to supervise it while she pulls the wagon. Marinette agrees, grateful someone will be there to counter her famous clumsiness. As long as she doesn’t see Adrien… but then again, why would she?

Soon enough, the cake makes its way to a park just a few blocks away, where a group of gathered little girls tells her she’s made it to the right spot. 

A young, brunette woman stands up to greet her. “You must be Marinette!”

“That I am!”

“And is that-” the woman begins, but is immediately cut off by a chorus of little girls exclamations.

“Chat Noir!”

The aforementioned superhero pokes his head up from behind the cake. “Me? Hey guys!”

“Mom! This is the best birthday ever!” one girl calls to the woman now paying Marinette for the cake.

“Oh, I’m glad, dear!” To Marinette, she adds, “How did you get him here?”

“Well, he saw the cake and wanted to visit!”

Chat wanders over to where Marinette and the woman stand. “It’s an honor, Madame. I can’t resist my most eager fans!”

“Really, I can’t thank you enough! Could I, if you don’t mind, have you take a photo with the group?”

“Of course! I love pictures!”

Marinette shakes her head as he bounds eagerly to the awestruck girls, motioning for them to gather around.

“I can take the photo, if you want to be in it,” Marinette offers.

“Would you? Thank you so much!” The woman hands her phone off to Marinette and joins the group.

“Alright everyone, smile!” Marinette calls. “One, two, three!” She snaps the picture.

“Who wants cake?” Chat calls, getting an eager cry from the girls. Marinette returns the phone and narrows her eyes as he looks her way. Responding with a shrug, he turns eagerly to where the woman now opens to cake, serving a slice to each girl and… cat.

Marinette waves goodbye and turns to go, smiling to herself at Chat’s antics. However, she makes it only around the block before he lands next to her, cake in hand.

“I didn’t know you liked following me around,” she teases.

“I’m lost without you, Princess,” he sighs dramatically, throwing her free arm around her shoulders.

“My baking, you mean?”

“Nope, just you. Although the fact that you make delicious treats is certainly an added bonus.” He stuffs another bite into his mouth and says, “This is _so good_. Wanna try?”

She scrunches her nose and presses her lips together. “Not after you’ve been eating it.”

Chat waves the cake near her face. “Come on, you know you want some.”

“I can go home and make some more- I don’t need your half-eaten mess.”

His face lights up. “Can you?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs, “You are impossible.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe I do.”

Chat spends the rest of the afternoon trying dessert after dessert out of Marinette’s impromptu test kitchen session. The way to that boy’s heart, is certainly through his stomach.


	6. Adoption/Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one DEFINITELY is a crackfic, based on a wild experience during my freshman year of high school. Anybody know of those strangely 'realistic' robot babies that parenting/child development classes will have you take care of? Yeah that was me as a freshman. And so, I imagined Marinette in a similar situation, lol!

Marinette curses her luck. It was only natural that she had gotten stuck with this weekend for the huge, required final project for family relationships class. She hadn’t even meant to be in the class in the first place, but she had accidentally forgotten to fill out one semester on her class request sheet, and the sorting program had automatically placed her in the last class anyone wanted to have. Alya had teased her, but seeing her friend’s genuine anger and frustration with the situation kept her quiet from then on. 

To Marinette’s relief, the class luckily hadn’t required much work. Her teacher assigned a summary packet per unit, and the occasional project, which she could easily handle. In fact, she had almost begun to enjoy the class- until now. The end of the semester inched closer, so every week, the teacher shuffled the names of students in the class, and each week, one was selected to complete the final project: spend a weekend with an automated baby. This wasn’t your average baby doll, oh no, this was peak classroom technology, which technically wasn’t saying much, but even the design labs couldn’t boast such a gadget. This baby was equipped with a sound system, sensors for temperature and motion, a unique recognition mechanism that paired with a “parent’s” bracelet and its own supplies, and a head support monitor which would sound the alarm if she let the baby’s neck lean too far back. The only thing a real baby had that this replica didn’t was functional organ systems. Marinette had dreaded the project, only because she could never come up with a good enough excuse to opt out as no one could know she actually was Ladybug. 

So here she goes, walking home with a baby carrier in hand, earning her looks of surprise and misplaced disapproval from her fellow pedestrians. The fact that the baby starts crying for care less than a minute from leaving the school only deepens Marinette’s resentment for her predicament. But she could not afford to fail this project, so she simply hides her face and continues on. Marinette arrives at her house utterly defeated, and not even fresh macarons can save her from a dreary mood. After giving her parents each a kiss with as much cheerfulness as she can manage, she hoists the baby carrier onto her arm and lugs it up the stairs to her room, only to have it cry once more. 

Unfortunately for Marinette, her electronic child is in the midst of a fussy spell, and this requires hands-on attention for at least 3 minutes. The baby must be rocked or bounced gently so the motion sensors can pick up on the care being provided. Legend says that the fussy period should only last three minutes, but Marinette has heard all the horror stories of robot babies fussing for upwards of an hour. With a sigh, and continued rocking, she flips on a TV channel on her computer and wanders aimlessly through her room. 

Half an hour later, the baby still shows no sign of settling down, and Marinette’s patience has worn thin. She needs to work on projects, or even clean her room, but she cannot do anything with a fussy baby in her arms. 

Just then, she hears a familiar pattern of footsteps above her, and not a moment later, Chat Noir pokes his head in from her trapdoor. His grin morphs into a confused look at seeing the baby in her arms, but then recognition finally finds itself on his face.

“Oh, that’s right you have that project this weekend.”

_ What? _ “I never mentioned-”

“I- I uh, well, it’s just that my school has those projects too, and so I saw you with the baby, and I recognized it.”

“No need to get all worked up, Chat. Aren’t you going to come in?”

Chat blushes, swallowing once and dropping into the room.

“Hey! Use the ladder you silly cat,” Marinette laughs. She stops rocking up and down for a moment to regard the sheepish glance he gives her, but an automated whimper snaps her back into motion.

“So, uh, how’s  _ this _ -” Chat gestures to the baby, “going for you?”

“Honestly? It’s just as bad as I envisioned it. I mean, I babysit all sorts of kids, and these automated things never get it right. Like, this thing has been crying for about an hour now. I know normal babies can cry for hours on end, but this thing needs you to physically rock it the whole time.”

“Wow. Aren’t you tired after an hour?”

“You think? Yeah, I’m in good shape but I think I’m going to be sore in the morning from all this rocking.”

“Well, can I take it for a bit then? So you can take a break?”

“Be my guest. Are you sure?”

Chat Noir’s trademark charm kicks back in as he replies, “Anything for my Princess.”

Marinette smiles bashfully as she hands over the baby. “Careful, you’ve got to support its head, and rock it gently enough so it doesn’t scream, but hard enough for the monitor to register movement.”

“I didn’t realize this was so high-tech.”

“Tell me about it.” Marinette moves straight to her chaise and collapses. She watches Chat examine the baby, running one clawed finger over its rubbery cheek. There’s something so tender about the way he cares for something as simple as a robot child. Marinette finds herself staring, until he looks up to meet her gaze, and she quickly turns her face downward, blushing.

A small smile spreads across his face, but he leaves his discovery alone. “Have you named it yet?”

“Um, no, I haven’t. I didn’t really think about it.”

“It is your kid for this weekend, shouldn’t… He? She?”

“Uh… She? I think.”

“Right. Well, shouldn’t she get a name?”

“Well I can  _ not _ use one of the names of my future children on her so unless you want to name her, I’m not so sure.” Marinette pauses, and immediately feels heat rising in her cheeks as she realizes her mistake.

“Future children? Princess, you never told me you wanted kittens.” Chat grins mischievously, prompting a thoroughly mortified squeak from Marinette. 

Then indignation takes over. “Very funny. For your information I’m not planning on having children until I’m certain the father isn’t a stray. You just can’t trust alley cats, you know.”

Chat raises his eyebrows at her outburst, pink in the ears. He hadn’t expected her to respond to his offhand comment. He awkwardly coughs to break the silence, then reverts back to the original conversation. “Well, I’m not an expert at naming kids, as you’ve probably guessed by now.” Marinette rolls her eyes at the superhero, still rocking a robotic baby. “However, I do think that Emma would be a lovely name for this one.”

Marinette’s eyes widen and she gasps out of pure reflex.  _ You’ve got to be kidding me _ . 

Chat eyes her nervously. “Uh, Princess?”

“I can’t believe you,” she half-mutters, half-replies.

“Are you alright? You don’t have to name her that- I-”

Marinette cuts him off. “No. It- It’s just that, Emma is one of the names I had thought about, you know, for real.”

“No way. Maybe we are meant to have kids.”

Now Marinette slings a pillow at Chat, just missing his head as he ducks. “Hey!” he cries, “Watch out for Emma!” 

\------

Curiously, Emma stopped crying not long after her christening. Chat gently hands her back to Marinette, who lays her down in the baby carrier she borrowed from the classroom. 

Taking a seat on the chaise next to Emma, Chat asks, “You got any books? Like kids’ books?”

Marinette eyes him somewhat incredulously. “Maybe a few are lying around here somewhere. Why?”

“Well, shouldn’t we entertain her or something?”

“Chat,” Marinette rolls her eyes. “She’s not a real baby.”

“Yeah, but isn’t this the point? To pretend?”

“I guess, but… I guess you’re right. I think I’ve got some books. If not, there’s always the novel I have to read for class. Or I could practice my English to her.”

“All excellent options, Princess.” Chat refuses to remove his gaze from Emma, and he raises a hand to stroke her cheek again when he thinks Marinette is distracted. She finds herself staring, and after a few silent moments, Chat notices. “You can just read your novel if you want, it doesn’t really make a difference.”

Snapping out of her trance, Marinette quickly turns to the shelf behind her, knocking a picture frame off in her flurried action. “Yeah, um, of course! I think I only have sewing patterns anyways.”

\-------

The rest of the evening passes quietly, Marinette and Chat taking turns reading the novel. Little did Marinette know, her black-clad companion needed to catch up on the reading, too. The two decide that the best way to read to Emma was when they sat side by side, backs to the wall, each holding one side of the book with one hand. Chat’s other hand snakes behind Marinette to her waist, while her other hand holds Emma upright, so she can see the book too. 

When Tom and Sabine come upstairs to bid their daughter goodnight, they discover the pair just like that. Fast asleep, the book remains open across Chat’s lap, but they have shifted in their sleep. Now Marinette cradles Emma, lying to her right, and Chat rests his head on her back, with his arms holding Marinette and Emma close. 

Sabine quickly snaps a photo, and she and her husband share a sly glance, each smiling. 


	7. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst train!! Our heroes have a not-so-happy night :(

How many times has Adrien stood in front of this same portrait, envious of the undisturbed joy on the face of his younger self? That youthful, carefree grin, the smile that reached his eyes, how could that boy possibly be the same as the person he is now? Adrien wonders if anyone even notices the difference between his smiles. How could they? No one knew him, not really. No one cared to try. No one really wanted Adrien, they wanted the model, the cardboard cutout his father forced him to be. At least, that’s what he’s told himself.

Sometimes Adrien can’t help but feel like all he has are ghosts from the past. His mother gone, and his father a shell of the man he once was, even his own self seems to be slowly fading. Adrien doesn’t know how much more he can stand. Then he was 13, and now he’s 17, and still as helpless and hopeless as before. He can feel Adrien drifting away, so here he is, gazing up at what he used to be, trying desperately to bring that back, grasping at the shreds of the life he used to have. Now it seems Chat is the only one who can save that Adrien. In a moment, Adrien dashes back to his room, transforming into his escape.

\-----

How many times has Marinette stood out on her balcony, regarding the night sky as if somehow it could magically fix up her life the way she wanted. Maybe it’s just teenage angst, but her confused feelings seem to wrap her up and threaten to suffocate her. As time goes on, her confidence in her aptitude for superhero duties grows, but no amount of Tikki’s pep talks will ever drive away the quiet voice eating at her. The ghosts of her past remind her of each and every mistake. The first failure with Stoneheart, the failure to capture Hawkmoth when she had the best shot, the failure to save Chat from his own cataclysm against Miraculer, each past defeat darting around in her mind, refusing to be silenced. Her breathing grows shaky, and she grips the railing in front of her in an attempt to stay grounded. 

\-----

Chat collapses on the roof above his room, not knowing where to go, but knowing he’s better off outside. The cool night air rustles his unkempt locks, and he makes no attempt to move them out of his eyes. A twinge of fear that someone might catch him here flashes through his mind, and he involuntarily scans the nighttime skyline. Paris’s strict building codes ensure that he can see the beloved monument from his perch, but his eye catches on something much closer. Light from a house a few blocks away softly illuminates a petite figure,  _ Marinette _ . She doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything, which strikes him as strange because every time he visits he always interrupts something. She never complains, though; it seems Marinette always has time for him.  _ Or she makes it _ . There’s no way she just happens to be finished with whatever she’s doing the minute he arrives.  _ So does that mean…  _ Maybe there is someone he can count on. Someone who cares about each side of him. Someone kind and gentle, someone who can listen. Someone he desperately needs right now.

\-----

Marinette breathes, deliberately and surely, willing herself to calm down.  _ Who could she possibly turn to? _ Her parents, as much as she loves them… She doesn’t want to drag them into this; they couldn’t understand, and she can’t afford to ruin the relationship she has with them. Alya, well, her version of comfort isn’t so gentle, and it’s far too late to disturb her. Who else knows her well enough; who else would understand the burdens she carries; who else knows the bitter sting of inadequacy? Before her mind can protest, her partner, with that million dollar grin she knows hides wounds much deeper, comes to mind. The hero of Paris, who doesn’t know how much of a personal hero he’s become for her. The boy who goes out of his way to drop by and make her day. Somehow, he’s always there when she needs him, right on time. But no, he wouldn’t be here this time, how could he know? Marinette’s eyes grow hot with tears that run over her cheeks. She stifles her sobs, silently shaking with each hitch in her breathing.

\-----

Not waiting to talk himself out of it, Chat leaps from the Agreste mansion to the next roof over. With his baton extending to propel him forward, the trip is less than a minute, and there she is. He pauses, hidden in the darkness on the roof behind her, wondering if it would be right to intrude. He notices her shudder, finding it odd as the spring night is fairly warm, and there’s no breeze to be felt. She is in a sleeveless shirt, however, so maybe...  _ That’s it _ . He has to warm her up, or at least help her somehow. He wipes at his face, hoping the tear stains have faded before he leaps gingerly to the balcony. She whips around, wide-eyed, and-  _ oh _ . Her cheeks shine in neat lines down her face, but before he speaks a word she’s in his arms, holding him tighter than she ever has. No words are needed, for no words can be found. Each of them just  _ knows _ . He presses one hand to her hair, and the other reaches around her back to hug her just as closely as she hugs him. 

\-----

Maybe the ghosts will never leave, maybe the fight will be forever, but at least Marinette knows, just as the boy in her arms does, that they’ll never have to fight alone.


End file.
